


Keep the Fire Burning

by faeriesung



Series: Alone Against the World [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriesung/pseuds/faeriesung
Summary: This is the first time Cáno has come along on the forest trail. He doesn’t yet realise that there is no routine here and time is not structured as it is at home. Moreover, they are not here for play; they are here in preparation for something far more important. Nelyafinwë hopes that his brother will understand this.





	

Cáno is missing. Nelyafinwë and Atar have been looking for him among the fir trees in this forest for a long while. The fire must be dead now. They had only gone to collect firewood before this. Cáno was given the task to stay behind and look after the fire. But now, he is nowhere to be found.

They return to the clearing where the fire was built. There is only smoke – the glow in the embers give way to black char and white ash. They had built the fire to cook the midday meal, only from branches that could be easily picked. To have a fire that would be warmer and last longer, they would have had to fell a tree. Atar had it in mind to build a shed where sturdy firewood could be stored, but that would require consent from the hunters and guardians of the forest, servants of Oromë and Vána, upon whose realm they tread now.

“Can you rekindle the fire, Nelyo?” Atar says. He gives Nelyafinwë an instructive glance, and turns quickly away towards the path downhill.

“Atar, may I come with you?” Nelyafinwë tries to catch up with his father, who is walking doubly fast. His distress is obvious, and Nelyafinwë only wishes for Cáno to be found soon.

“Move quicker then.” Fëanáro barely glances at his son, who is trailing behind, but running in an effort to keep up. 

The path is full of stones and jutting roots. Fëanáro steps over them effortlessly. Nelyafinwë clambers with both hands and feet, nearly misses a step several times, but he doesn’t make a sound, so his father doesn’t look back. 

They can see Cáno’s small silhouette on the riverbank. He is crouching next to the water. 

Atar runs to Cáno and pulls him by the arm. Atar is furious and Cáno looks up at him wide-eyed and terrified.

“What did I ask you to do, Cáno?” 

Cáno is so frightened that he doesn’t say anything. Atar hasn’t even raised his voice. He is merely holding on to Cáno’s arm and glaring straight into his eyes.

Cáno is always running off by himself. And then he’d get into trouble with Atar. When Atar isn’t paying much attention and Cáno is not frightened, he’s got quite a tendency to talk back. Not this time.

“Kánafinwë,” Fëanáro says sternly. “Answer my question.”

“…to watch the fire,” Cáno says. “Keep the fire burning.”

“The fire is dead, and our midday meal is delayed because of you. But this is only the least of consequences – we are only in the forest of the Valar, and not elsewhere further.” Fëanáro continues, “I will not have you acting like this a second time, is it understood?”

Cáno only nods, but Atar lets him go. 

Nelyafinwë is made to hold Cáno’s hand. Cáno is unhappy with that. He pouts, he takes choppy steps, and he stomps every time he has to step over a rock or a branch. There is no honour whatsoever in having a capricious younger brother in his charge. But Nelyafinwë tries to calm him down, as he always does. This has always been his responsibility when Emmë is not around. When Cáno goes missing, he goes to look for him. Whatever happens to Cáno, he bears part of the responsibility. Nelyafinwë has no say in how he feels about it, or whether he is appreciated, because it is his responsibility. But he doesn’t mind, because Cáno is after all, his brother.

“Let me go, Russandol.” Cáno tries to shake his hand free.

“No.”

Atar has gone ahead to rebuild a fire, but Nelyafinwë can’t risk Cáno running ahead by himself again. 

“Ahh, you are insufferable!” Cáno frowns.

“Speak for yourself.” Nelyafinwë tightens his grip on his brother’s hand. “Try to calm down, we will eat soon, and Atar wasn’t even that angry.”

Cáno is tired and hungry, that is why he is irritable. And he got told off by Atar, which didn’t help. This is the first time Cáno has come along on the forest trail. He doesn’t yet realise that there is no routine here and time is not structured as it is at home. Moreover, they are not here for play; they are here in preparation for something far more important. Nelyafinwë hopes that his brother will understand this.

“Just let me go already!” Kánafinwë shakes off his brother hand agitatedly, and runs ahead.

Nelyafinwë gets a bad feeling. This had happened before, and in one way or another, he always ends up taking the brunt of it.

Fortunately, Cáno is found sitting quietly next to the fire, his hands held out towards the fire for warmth. Atar had laid out a few slabs of stones that they could sit on, lined with deerskin. A small pot had been set up for the cooking. Atar sits opposite to Cáno, peeling potatoes with a knife. He isn’t very adept at it. 

“Come here, Nelyo.” Atar takes a piece of bread from his rucksack and breaks it in half. “Share this with your brother.”  
Nelyafinwë obliges quietly. He breaks the piece in half, and hands the bread to Cáno. Without looking up, Cáno sweeps his brother’s hand away with an arm. The bread is sent flying to one side.

“Cáno,” Fëanáro looks up. “Pick up the bread.”

Cáno is about to protest, but his father’s stern glare silences him. He leaves his seat to do what he has been told. He glances at his older brother, who has begun eating his bread, pulling a little piece from the centre. The bread is dark and made of rye. Cáno doesn’t mind the flavor – it’s not the fancy type, but he likes it. However, it’s from the previous day, and it is really dry. It wasn’t made for travel because they hadn’t organized this trip with any of the household staff. Cáno lets out a sigh. As he returns to his seat, he carefully slots the piece of bread among the burning firewood.

Cáno was sure that his father didn’t see it. He wasn’t looking in this direction. But he had noticed it somehow, and he throws down his knife, rises from his seat, and grabs Cáno by the arm in one fell swoop.

Cáno is really frightened now. He didn’t expect Atar to be this furious. Behind Fëanáro’s towering figure, Cáno could see his older brother looking at them – Nelyo seems so small, blurry and far away now – he can’t help him, and Emmë is not here.

“Kánafinwë,” Fëanáro’s voice isn’t raised. It is strangely calm and subdued – the more it is so, the angrier he actually is. And that is what’s scary about it. “Before we set out on this trip, what did I tell you, and what have you promised me?”

Cáno is beginning to remember that conversation, but he is trembling and can’t say a word. Atar has a hand held against his shoulder, only lightly, but the sheer anger is palpable, it emanates from him and casts a shadow over both father and son. Cáno feels engulfed by a terrible force. He takes a step back.

Cáno was looking forward to this trip – Nelyo had been to the forest with Atar without him twice before – this was the first time he was allowed to follow along. This was something special. None of the people in the house (except Emmë) had been told about it, therefore the trip wasn’t organized with any carriages or chests of belongings like when they visited Grandfather Mahtan. It was even different from when they would have a day out in the forest with Emmë, have a picnic and return home to their beds. They would spend two days in the forest all by themselves, without a guide, and sleep in the wild. He just imagined two days without anyone fussing over his unbuttoned collar, without anyone reminding him to address people by their titles, without being called to the dining table while in the middle of a game. But he had been made to walk all day and now, he is starving, exhausted and being admonished because of a piece of bread – it isn’t very different from home, in a way.

“Didn’t I explain to you, Cáno, that we are not at home, and you will not be served anything at the table?” Fëanáro says. “And that we are not in the gardens – food does not come by easily, nor does water flow everywhere. What have you promised me?”  
“To understand, and be responsible.” Cáno remembers that he had promised to be responsible. But he is only beginning to realise what it means.

“You have done neither.” Fëanáro lets go of Cáno’s shoulder and turns away. He returns to his seat and resumes his work without another word.

Cáno is completely devastated. 

Nelyafinwë has his eyes on his brother – he is sure that Cáno is about to storm off – if that happens he would have to go after him. That would only get both of them into trouble, but that is what Cáno always does. 

Cáno strides over towards his older brother and swings his arms around his neck. He is sniffing and breathing heavily. Nelyafinwë puts an arm around his younger brother in response.

“I thought you said I was insufferable?” Nelyafinwë muses. 

“Shut up.”

  


The next morning, Nelyafinwë wakes up alone in their tent. Atar and Cáno’s blankets had been wrapped around him – he still woke up because he felt the chill of the morning. 

Outside the tent, Atar is sitting with Cáno nestled in his lap. Cáno has his arms around Atar and his face buried in his chest. Atar hums a tune quietly to his little child. Nelyafinwë smiles – Cáno looks very much like a bear cub. They are dressed in green and brown, and Atar had his cloak wrapped around Cáno – they can easily blend in with all the other creatures of the forest now.

“Good morning, Nelyo.” Fëanáro turns to greet his eldest son. “Were you cold inside the tent?”

Nelyafinwë shakes his head.

“We put all our blankets around you.” Cáno looks up, sleepily. “You looked like a baby.”

“No, you are the baby.” Nelyafinwë catches his brother’s small foot. “You act like one.”

Cáno tries to kick his older brother. But Nelyafinwë has got a good hold on his foot. Cáno hasn’t got any socks on and his foot feels a little cold. Nelyafinwë places his palm on the back of Cáno’s foot rubs his ankle lightly with a thumb.

“Nelyo, will you light the fire?”

“Yes, Atar.” 

“Thank you, Nelyo.” Fëanáro reaches over to kiss his eldest son on the forehead. “I know I can rely on you.”

“Atar,” Cáno says softly, still nestled in his father’s embrace. “Is this how the Avari live?”

“How do you mean?”

“In the wild, building fires in the forest to cook and keep warm.”

“I should think so.” Fëanáro says. “Though I don’t really know because I have never been to Middle Earth.”

“Does the light of Laurelin and Telperion reach Middle Earth?”

“I don't know.” Fëanáro replies quietly. “The affairs of Middle Earth are not spoken of very much in Aman. None of the Eldar has ever ventured to return.”

Fëanáro carries Cáno to the tent. He sets his young son down and proceeds to put socks on his bare feet, one by one. Cáno is probably old enough to do this by himself, but Fëanáro does it for him anyway. He hasn’t seen very much of his children lately.

Usually, it’s Emmë who helps him with his shoes and socks. Cáno looks down at his father’s hands. There are many scars on them. He reaches out a small hand to trace a raised scar between the thumb and index finger. They must be from the forge. Sometimes, when Atar does not come home for the evening meal and only arrives several days later, he looks as if he has lost something important. He and Emmë would argue, sometimes about Atar’s health, sometimes about something else. Cáno isn’t allowed to enter the forge yet, but he thinks if he could be good, Atar wouldn’t have to work so much that he’d hurt himself. Cáno wonders if the scars still hurt – he wishes to make it better.

“Do you still love me, Atarinya?”

“Of course I do, Cáno.”

“Atar… I’m sorry, about yesterday.” Cáno holds his father’s hand as he speaks. “I’m not like Russandol. I’m not good like him, but I want to help.” 

“I know that, Cáno.” Fëanáro kisses his younger son on the forehead. “And you are as good as Nelyo. I need you both.”

“Cáno.” Fëanáro says, as he gently raises Cáno’s chin so that he could face him as he speaks. “We will bring the light of the trees to Middle Earth.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet, but we will. That’s why you need to be responsible.” Fëanáro leans slightly forward in emphasis. “Middle Earth is the birthplace of the Quendi. A darkness dwell there, that the Avari alone face. We shall bring the light of the trees to Middle Earth, so that the light of knowledge and wisdom shall be made known to all who dwell in Arda. Now do you understand?”

Cáno is quiet for a moment. He tries to picture a world beyond the sea, without the light of the trees, only the stars, where the Avari still live by the light and warmth of the fire. But it is difficult.

“When you are grown, you will understand.”

Atar smiles, but in that moment he looks so weary, like when he had spent days in the forge without coming home. Cáno isn’t sure if he will ever understand everything in his father’s mind. He will try nonetheless. The only thing he knows is that wherever Atar goes, he will go. And he will do everything to make him better.


End file.
